


Initium aliquid novi (The start of something new)

by F_and_E_girl



Series: Neque tamen interim obliviscamur solem (Let us not forget the sun) [1]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Injury, F/F, F/M, Fix-It, I'll add tags as chapters come along, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:20:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23313778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/F_and_E_girl/pseuds/F_and_E_girl
Summary: He couldn't mess this up, under any circumstance. He had to make things right.“You lied, Marco stated, looking straight at the flame. You promised you'd give me power, the power to fight, the power to influence, the power to save and the power to protect. You lied. And now they're gone. They are all gone, and they will never come back. How can I keep my end of our deal, when you haven't kept yours?”
Relationships: Fuschichou Marco | Phoenix Marco & Whitebeard Pirates, Izou/Thatch (One Piece), Thatch & Whitebeard Pirates
Series: Neque tamen interim obliviscamur solem (Let us not forget the sun) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1676575
Comments: 18
Kudos: 81





	1. Promise

Old sayings state that buildings have souls and feelings of their own. Family cottages, for example, have warm and happy auras, full of children's laughter, effort and love. Hospitals feel both miserable and joyous at once, for death and life both exist within their walls. 

Standing alone in a deserted hall, all Marco could feel was emptiness. Even the echoes of the empty galleries' previous life didn't remain.

The passage was quite imposing but he stared at its other end - he didn't pay any attention to his surroundings. He had been here many times after all, and he knew this place like the back of his head.

He could point out any nook or cranny without even looking.

The endless hallway paved with checkered tiles, the marble pillars and stone walls. The many gold torches hanging from the ceiling - all geometrically aligned and lit. He remembered it all.

All in all, the room served its purpose well, to intimidate guests and enemies alike.

The still man's thoughts wandered. One of those torches had a small stain on it, the blood left from a previous battle. The 4th tile from the left on the 157 th row had a small crack in it. It took him 365 steps to cross the corridor when he was walking, 268 when he was running. The imposing door at the end had a scratch on its bottom right corner, showing off its original blue colour.

Nobody would have ever cared to point out such trivial things - nobody would have ever noticed them - but Marco had. He always perceived the most insignificant details in the places where he set foot. Jozu and Blenheim called it an eye for detail, and they said he'd make a great shipwright thanks it.

For Marco, finding deformities in a room meant to be flawless was like a game. A manner of reminding himself how fictitious this all was. The people who lived here only clung to fake ideals, devoting their lives to a man who couldn't care less.

This corridor had once meant a great deal to him. A lifetime ago, this place symbolised the beginning of a new adventure. All that remained today was a bittersweet memory. He still pondered sometimes what the people who used to inhabit these walls would be like today. If they were still alive.

_Okay, focus Marco_ , he instructed to himself, _this is not the time to be thinking about them, this is important_. He fixed his gaze on the end of the hallway once again, waiting for a sign.

Today, this place was but a mere fragment amongst the vastness of his mind. A small figment of a memory forever locked inside if his head. The only reason the first division commander was there was because of Him. He had decided that his memory of this specific place was the best spot for them to communicate.

Marco felt a shift in the air. Finally, he thought, as he looked up towards the ceiling where a small flame was hovering in mid-air. He held back his amazement upon seeing it. It was a gorgeous blend of crimson, scarlet and gold. You could discern a speck of white light that flickered at its heart if you stared for long enough.

The once first division commander quietly examined the light.

That flame was the last chance he would ever get to fix things and steer fate towards a better course. He couldn't mess this up, under any circumstance. He had to make things right.

He opened his mouth and let the words roll off his tongue.

"You lied," Marco stated, "you promised you'd give me power, the power to fight, to influence, to save and to protect. You promised you'd give me a family, and you promised I could keep them safe. You lied. All I could do was stand next to them and watch as they were all taken from me. I couldn't do a thing. Now they're gone. They are all gone, and they will never come back. How can I keep my end of the deal, when you haven't yours?"

Marco fell silent and stared at the flame. One might think it foolish of him to pour his heart and soul out to a floating light, how could it resolve anything? All the hope Marco had poured into this instant made the walls of his mind quake. He waited, as he felt the flame's pensiveness.

_Indeed, I have not fulfilled my part of our agreement_ , answered a deep and powerful voice. _Very well then, I'll give you a second chance._

Marco let out a breath that he hadn't realised he'd been holding in. The sheer relief he felt was enough to light up the entire room in his mind.

But I must warn you now, the voice continued. _M_ _essing with time means that you will have to fulfil your promise faster than intended._

"I don't care," Marco said, in a convincing manner, "as long as everyone lives, then it all will have been worth it. They are worth every sacrifice."

_Then so be it,_ answered the flame. _Keep in mind though,_ _that this is the first and last time that I ever do anything like this for you. If you ever make the mistake of crawling back to me begging for favours... I'll reject you like the worthless pile of trash you are. It is true that I always hold my promises. But don't delude yourself into thinking that a filthy mortal like you can barge in here as you please and that I'll bow to your every command. Am I clear?_

"Crystal," the pirate said nervously, although relief still seeped through his mind. It's not like he wasn't used to His derogatory rants after having heard them so many times. Nevertheless, they hadn't lost their intimidating effect.

He opened his mouth to thank the flame for accepting his request but it blew itself out suddenly. Everything around him faded.

_What the..? I am in my mind dammit, I'm the one who decides when the lights go out._

The ground opened beneath Marco's feet. He fell deeper and deeper into darkness, feeling colder the further he went.

The last thing he sensed before he passed out was His amusement. He knew what Marco's hope was, and he found it pathetic. Oh well, it would be entertaining to watch the Phoenix run around from afar. He'd been so bored lately, this was bound to occupy him for a while.

***

Marco woke up with a start, sat up straight and looked around him. He was in bed.

He took in his surroundings: the desk in the corner of the room and the small bookshelf, the wardrobe, the window, the sent of the sheets... Everything seemed so familiar...

He put his feet on the floor and felt it shift as if he was on the sea.

The sea? I went to sleep on land, why am I on the sea?

Suddenly, his brain clicked. He was on a ship. No, he wasn't on any ship. He was home.


	2. Pain

Thatch was sitting alone at his desk in his room.

It was late and today's battle was tiring. He couldn't sleep due to the leftover adrenaline pumping in his veins though.

To this moment, he couldn't believe how he had flown into battle. His presence alone had helped turn the tide for the struggling seventh division. 

Some rookie pirates had decided to form an alliance with a crew of pirate hunters. Their goal was to try and bring down one of Whitebeard's divisions. They had the element of surprise and were quite strong. The  newly formed alliance got the upper hand in a flash.

Good thing Thatch had gone fishing close by that morning. He had spotted the explosions of the battle from afar.

Intrigued, he had rowed his small boat towards their ship to see what was going on. When he noticed that his comrades were struggling, he hopped on board to give them a helping hand.

He had surprised everyone with his timely arrival, enemies and brothers alike. Thanks to their combined fighting skills, the seventh division  swiftly recovered. The battle ended without any lost lives on their side and minimal injuries. 

It hadn't been in his intentions to steal the spotlight from Rakuyo's division when they got home. But his brother was swift to tell the whole crew how  incredibly well the cook had fought to defend his family.

What followed their victory was a great party. They feasted on the food found on their fallen foe’s boat. Everyone had  wholeheartedly agreed that Thatch would get 70% of the treasure. He had even gotten a devil fruit too!

Thatch wasn't thinking of eating it, who would dive in after his brothers when they fell into the sea if he didn't?

He'd trade it for something big when they dropped the anchor at the next island.

Maybe he could try out a new recipe with an ultra-rare and expensive fish? Or, how about he got an extra good piece of meat since it was Atmos's birthday pretty soon? Or he could get lots and lots of fruit from all over the planet and make a giant fruit salad for the entire crew? He knew that all good quality fruits were over-expensive on this part of the sea. 

He couldn't help but be enthusiastic about all the fun and extraordinary recipes he had in mind. All thanks to that fruit. Everyone would be so happy, he was going to outdo himself!

Still, part of him couldn't help but wonder what powers the purple fruit held. He reached towards it and let fingers brush  softly against its stem. It looked a little bit like a pineapple on the outside. The many spirals drawn on its surface gave it a hypnotizing look.

He set it back down and got back to work.

He didn't usually like writing reports. Marco often had to lock him up in his room and keep him there until he got the work done. The cook admitted that it was childish of him to force the situation to grow to such extremes. But doing paperwork was so boring!

For once though, he was having a great time laying his exploits down on paper. He made sure to write down every last detail. This had to be perfect. The brawl had been so much fun that writing it down was more of an amusement than a chore.

It might have looked like he was bragging about his strength, but Thatch didn't care, he was so damn proud of his fight. He'd write a report so long that Marco would feel like he was reading an adventure novel.

He felt like an author who's idea for his next bestseller had  just bloomed in his head. The only difference being that Thatch had lived through the tale he was telling.

Man, I'm so proud of myself .

I'm so proud of my family.

I'm so happy.

Who would have thought a poor, hungry brat with no family like me could become so strong and loved and encouraged and...

Man, I'm so lucky to have found them all.

I love my family so much.

He repeated several times those words mentally as he  enthusiastically continued writing.

He had achieved sophrosyne thanks to them, he felt so grateful!

Thatch was so absorbed in his thoughts and work that didn't hear the door creak behind him.

I can't believe how strong I've become.

I love my family so damn much I can't believe that they have taken me so far .

He didn't sense the presence behind him.

And they were so proud of him too! Rakuyo for example! He hadn't hesitated one second to tell everyone about Thatch's display of skills. He'd spent the entire evening bragging about his brother's strength.

There was no jealousy whatsoever between them.

They cared about him. He cared about them. Simple as that.

He was so happy here.

His back hurt a bit.

His back hurt.

Why was it hurting like that?

He reached back to try and touch the place that had  abruptly started hurting and he froze in his movement.

The world exploded into pain, and no matter how hard he tried to, he couldn't scream.

Whatever was in his back, it hurt, and it was horrible, and he couldn't breathe, and he was panicking.

Was he going to die like this? God his back hurt so much.

He fell off of his chair, face into the ground.

As he lay there, confused and in pain, he could feel something warm trickling down his side. Was it blood?

He couldn't move, his head was spinning so much.

The last thing he heard was the frantic footsteps of someone running out of the room. Darkness overtook him.


	3. Nightmare

Marco ran.

He ran faster than he had ever run in his life.

He hadn't been here in several years, but that didn't matter.

He remembered everything, the entire layout of the ship, who's room belonged to whom, who was on guard when, and more than anything, where Thatch had been when he died.

How many times had been through this in his nightmares? How many times had he rushed out of his room, only to see, time and time again, that he was too late?

He ran past a few crewmembers who asked him what was happening. They looked worried. Marco wondered what kind of face he was pulling to make them assume immediately that something was wrong.

He didn't stop to answer though, no time, no time, no time.

He was going to be too late. Again. Like in all those dreams. Like last time.

Marco could hear the voices of his dreams ringing in his ears. He countered them all with his thoughts.

 _It's no good_. They said. 'Shut up.'

 _He's already dead, stop running_. They pushed on. 'Don't tell me what to do.'

 _You're only going to find a corpse, and it'll be your fault. You should have seen Teach's betrayal coming. It's your fault, you are weak. You have always been weak_. Marco shook his head. 'Leave me alone, I am awake now, and I will change fate. I know I will.'

He burst into the galley. Never even stopping to glance at the people around him. He made his way around the tables and went straight to the back of the room.

The pirates who were present stopped eating for a second and looked at each other. Marco looked very upset. Someone suggested that Thatch had probably pulled one of his pranks again but no one believed it.

Marco seemed so troubled...

Since the commanders weren't present at the time, one of the pirates designated himself to follow Marco from afar. He would come back if the situation required further assistance.

Marco didn't even realise that someone was behind him. He kept on advancing.

Thatch often slept and worked in a small room behind the kitchens. Of course, he had his room in the commanders' quarters, but he liked being 'close to the stove' as he put it.

He made his way toward the door but stopped dead in his tracks when he got there. It was closed.

 _Shit_ , Marco thought as the dread slowly clawing at his stomach since earlier started to overwhelm him, _I'm too late_.

Thatch always left the door open. He liked to eavesdrop on the kitchen to know what was happening onboard the moby dick. He never closed the door. Ever.

His hand brushed against the handle, pausing for a second, his arm felt heavy. He was so scared of what he'd find behind the door.

He tried to go faster, telling himself that Thatch was behind that door, that he couldn't afford to lose any more time. He was so scared though.

He was shaking thinking of what he'd find behind the closed door of Thatch's room. He felt like a little boy facing the monster in his head in a dark room.

 _Get yourself together_ , he told himself.

Marco took a deep breath as he pressed the down on the door handle.

He was immediately hit by the metallic stench of blood and flesh. He opened the door wider and spotted what he had been so afraid to see.

Thatch was laying face forwards on the floor, right next to his desk, the chair he had been sitting on was right next to him. Blood covered his lower back, so much blood that he couldn't even discern the wound that it was coming from.

He ran to his fallen brother's body and kneeled beside it.

The blood had coagulated in Thatch's back, forming some sort of disturbing pool overflowing down his ribs. It was a horrifying and gruesome sight to behold.

 _Please be alive. Please be alive. Please be alive._ He chanted.

Marco put his hand on his brother's shoulder and nearly cried in relief. He could feel through the Phoenix that there still was a small light of life left in his brother.

He could barely hold it together, but he had to concentrate. He masked his fear and anger. He was a child of Whitebeard and a Phoenix. He had to use the tools he was given.

He sat next to Thatch, both of his legs laying in his brother's blood, his breeches started soaking up the liquid and he could feel the still warm fluid against his skin. He didn't care.

He grabbed Thatch under his arms and pulled him up onto his shoulders. The first commander held his brother in a tight embrace on the floor. He made sure there was the most contact possible between them so that the flames could have the best effect.

He called on his power, and let his flames do the rest.

***

Vista was standing on the ship's top deck, enjoying the calmness of the sea before everyone started waking up.

The party thrown in Rakuyo and Thatch's honour had been quite a big one. It had only finished an hour ago when Thatch had decided to call it quits for the night. Since the main reason for the party had retired to his room, the crowd in the dining hall slowly started thinning. Only a few cooks and the pirates on watch were awake at this hour.

Vista had drawn the short straw, along with Curiel and Izou, so he hadn't been allowed to drink during the party and had to be the 'responsible adult'. Just to make sure nothing got too out of hand.

Of course, that didn't mean that he hadn't had his fun. It just meant that he was responsible for the good proceedings of the evening.

He'd passed a few of his brothers in the corridor as they all went to bed for the night, Chad, Haruta, Lee, even Teach was up late.

He breathed in deeply, the sky was dark and still and a small breeze was softly blowing through the sails. The wind was cold, but it felt good, clearing some of the tiredness from his head.

He turned on his heel to go back in and call it a night when he heard footsteps.

The swordsman looked where the noise was coming from, it was a boy from his division, one of his newest recruits, Dean, if Vista remembered correctly. He was about to scold the pirate for making to much noise when everyone was sleeping but he stopped before the words left his mouth.

He frowned as he took in the young brunette's appearance -he looked as pale as a sheet- and approached him to ask what was wrong.

Dean hadn't seen him though, and he started shouting at the top of his lungs.

"Help! We need help! Someone, please, get a doctor!"

Vista reached him, very concerned and the boy's tense shoulders dropped slightly when he saw that his commander was there. He seemed to to be a little relieved, but the grim look on his face remained.

"What's wrong? Vista asked. What happened?"

"He-he's hurt, please, you've got to come. There's so much blood. Oh my god please, you've got to come, please." The boy' panic was rising as he spoke.

The fifth division commander wanted to question him more thoroughly but decided against it, the pirate seemed like he wouldn't be able to answer to anything at the moment. Instead, he asked the boy to lead him to the injured person.

The boy turned around and started leading the way. He couldn't talk, he felt as if he was suffocating. He was having a panic attack. Before he broke down completely though, he lead the commander and the few other pirates who had heard his cry for help through the galley.

Vista suppressed a shudder as they approached a room that he recognised as being Thatches.

If this is another one of his terrible ideas for a prank, I'm going to kill him, Vista thought.

When he entered the room though, he started wishing that had been a prank.

The first thing he saw wasn't Thatch, but Marco. The look on his face was nothing like he had ever seen. His eyes seemed empty, staring into nothingness. Dread and fear were etched on his face in a way Vista had never seen before.

The look on Marco's face shocked him, he had never seen his brother looking so grief-stricken before.

He let his eyes wander down and what he saw didn't quite reach him at first. Marco was holding a Thatch in his arms, and there was blood everywhere.

When the realisation that his brother was probably dead hit him though, he pulled the same face as Marco had.

A shocked gasp next to him snapped him out of it, he turned and saw that Namur and four other men were standing beside him. He turned towards one of them ordered him to go and get the nurses. He somberly looked at the others and told them with the most serious tone he could muster. "Don't let Izou come in here, if he sees Thatch like that, it'll break him".

Two of them nodded and planted themselves outside the door, guarding it.

He slowly drew nearer to Marco and put his hand on his shoulder.

"Marco? Marco, it's me, it's Vista. Please snap out of it, I need to know if Thatch is alive."

***

Last time, when they found Thatch, it had been too late. The cook was already long dead, and no one could do anything about it.

This time though, he had found him in time, and everything was going to be okay.

Marco was going to bring him back, no matter what it took.

Man, no matter how many times he'd seen this particular scene played out in his nightmares, his brother's lifeless body always affected him so much.

He was so lost in thought that he jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Someone was talking to him.

He turned around, ready to fight, and relaxed when he discerned Vista's worried face in the dim-lit room. He looked up and saw that Haruta, Namur and a few crewmembers were all there.

They were all staring in shock at Thatch's body in Marco's arms, covered in blood, and surrounded by blue flames.

"Marco, is he alive?" Vista asked, dreading the answer to his question.

"Yes, barely," Marco said. Haruta let a small whine escape his lips and he sunk to his knees. Tears were slowly streaming down his face and he stayed there, not moving an inch, letting the fact that Thatch was alive wash over him.

Marco started talking to Thatch.

“Hold on Thatch, alright-yoi? Hold on! We'll get through this, okay? Soon you'll be running around the ship as always. Flirting terribly with Izou, shouting your quixotic ideas about love to anyone who'll listen and pranking everyone-yoi.”

Marco was shaking as he held his brother close to him and increased his blue flame's intensity.

When the nurses arrived, the once quiet room was filled with movement. They kicked everyone but the commanders out.

Marco, who had been feeding his flames to Thatch at full power since he had found him, lessened their intensity to let the nurses work on Thatch.

They both stayed in silence for a while, Marco feeding him with his life force and the worried-looking women working to stabilize him.

"Come on Thatch, stay with me, he said, choking slightly on his words, You are surrounded by pretty women who are all looking after you, don't let their efforts go to waste." If anything could keep his brother going, it was his chivalrous and undying respect for woman. He would never make a girl cry!

The nurses had originally wanted to work on Thatch in the operation room, but Marco couldn't move since he was giving all of his energy to his brother and the nurses had decided that keeping the Phoenix's flames around would be the best solution for now.

Last time, when Thatch had died, Marco had closed himself in his room for six days straight. He had shut himself out when his family needed him the most.

While he sat there, he promised himself that this time around, he'd be there to hold his crying brothers and make sure everything and everyone stayed together in the up and coming hard times.

After several hours of silent work, the girls finished stitching him up and bandaging him. They finally decided to move him.

Thatch was taken to the medical ward the long way. The nurses had decided that it would be wiser to avoid crossing the main deck with Thatch injured in such a manner. They would cause panic amongst the crew.

The Phoenix followed them, keeping his hand positioned on the cook's shoulder. They were placed in the largest room of the infirmary, Marco slept beside him, slowly feeding him his flames.

Finally, he let himself fall asleep and stop the flowing of his flames when he heard his brother's laboured breaths even out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if I’m a bit late with the next update, I have, it seems, fallen ill. I’ll still post the next chapter as soon as I can, you should have it in the next 2/3 days. Until then, please be mindful of yourselves, and stay inside, this really isn’t a nice virus, I wouldn’t wish it upon my worst enemy.


	4. Shock

Marco stirred awake, slightly opened his eyes and closed them again. A soft groan made its way out of his throat. The ray of aureate morning light coming through the porthole was shining right in his face.

The blond had fallen asleep on a stool, right next to the cook, his head resting on Thatch's leg. His right arm wrapped around the injured man's calves and his left hand held on tightly to his wrist. He had a good grip on Thatch, and he was not going to let him go, he would never let him slip away again.

The doctor stayed where he was for a little longer and listened to Thatch's heartbeat. It was strong. He focused on the rhythmic rise and fall of his brother's chest. Marco felt peaceful. Thatch was alive.  
  
Had his brother not been injured, Marco would have rested his head on his chest, high enough that he would feel his brother's breaths on his skin. Since he didn't want to hurt or infringe his brother's healing though, he settled with putting his head on the cook's legs instead.  
  
He had missed Thatch so much. His jokes, his smile, his reassuring presence -taking his cherished Nakama away from him had been like ripping out his insides. After everything that had happened, all the pain and misery, just staying there and listening to him breathe was like rubbing a healing balm on his aching and troubled mind. Marco was fiercely protective of his family. They were what gave colour to his world. He hadn't been able to to do anything before, but this time, he wouldn't sit back. He would give his family a future. They deserved every sacrifice.

  
  
Small footsteps resounded through the hall. Someone was approaching the room. They stopped in front of the door but didn't knock, hesitating a bit. Marco opened his eyes and threw a glance in the direction of the noise, curious as to whom it was.  
  
When the person still didn't move after a few seconds, Marco untangled his limbs from his brother and got up to open the door. In doing so, his chair raked the floor. The noise must have startled the visitor out of his reverie because they knocked right after.  
  
"Marco?" A tiny voice asked. It was Haruta. He seemed nervous - Marco could hear him fidgeting as he stayed planted behind the infirmary door.  
  
"Yeah? You can come in Squirt, you know that, right-yoi?" Marco said.  
  
The handle gently tilted downwards, and Haruta poked his head through the door.  
  
Several things made Marco's insides ache at that instant, first of all, seeing his brother act so shy when he was usually very outgoing stung him profoundly. Haruta was the kind of brat who barged into every room like he owned the place, who was loud and brash in all situations. Witnessing him act so out of character, the elder had to actively calm the instincts that told him to run to his little brother, take him in his arms and stay in a cuddle pile with Thatch and him for the rest of eternity. Even after Marineford, Haruta had tried to keep his upbeat demeanour throughout the funerals to help them all.  
  
The second thing that made Marco's stomach churn, what truly made him want to hug his little brother, was that the last time he had seen the boy, it was on a battlefield, holding on tight to his hand, as blood seeped through his shirt and his eyes went blank. His insides had ripped apart all over again.  
  
Most of his brothers had died at Teach's hand, and seeing them again was going to be hard. Marco had cried just as hard for every single one of their deaths.  
  
"I just came in to say that one of Vista's men informed Pops about what happened," Haruta explained, "and Pops has called for an emergency meeting with all commanders. None of them knows about what happened yet."

  
Marco blinked twice, ridding himself of the vision of his brothers covered in blood and turned his attention to his comrade who had just spoken.  
  
"Okay, thanks for telling me Squirt," Marco said softly, he was hoping to get a small reaction out of the youngest commander. The affectionate nickname always made him flail around, red in the face and mumbling things about being big enough not to be called a Squirt anymore.  
  
Sadly, he didn't even get a wince out of Haruta. The kid wouldn't look at him. And when he took a step forwards, the young commander took three steps backwards.  
  
 _Is there anything wrong with me?_ Marco wondered.  
  
He looked down at himself and noticed what might have disturbed the younger boy: Thatch's now dried up blood covered him. His trousers and shirt had soaked it up.   
  
"Ah, sorry for the state I'm in Haruta, I didn't notice I still had blood on my clothes," Marco apologized. "Is that what's disturbing you-yoi?"  
  
"It's not that," the kid said through his teeth, his shoulders were quivering, and he was holding back his tears, "it's... it's just that, yesterday I saw Thatch, and I saw you, and, when I stepped into that room with all the blood, you looked scary and scared at the same time. I don't know how to describe it. I wanted to help you so bad, but I couldn't do anything. I was so scared I couldn't even move until you told us he was alive. I'm sorry, I couldn't help you."  
  
 _So that's why he won't look me in the eye. He's feeling remorse over something he couldn't have helped_ , the older though. _That won't do._

  
Marco took a bigger step forwards -blood on his clothes be damned - and hugged Haruta, who let tears slowly roll down his cheeks.  
  
"Thank you for not beating around the bush and telling me straight away what was wrong-yoi," Marco said. "Haruta, I want you to know that you did all that you could do last night and that this isn't you fault".  
  
"But," Haruta objected, trying to push Marco away "I am the last person who spoke with Thatch! What if I could have prevented what happened? I should have talked to him longer! Or told him to come to my room to prepare some more pranks or something! Maybe then we could have fought together against his attacker, and Thatch would still be okay now!"  
  
"No. You listen to me now, and you listen well." Marco said, pulling him in his arms again and keeping him there, "there was nothing you could have done about it. What if whoever went after Thatch last night had hurt you too? What if you both were dying? I wouldn't have been able to save the two of you - and you know it-yoi. Thatch is alive Haruta. We must be grateful for that and move forwards. Blaming yourself won't accomplish anything apart from hurting you-yoi. You couldn't have known. No one, absolutely no one could have known about this Squirt, okay-yoi?"  
  
He felt the pressure slowly leaving the younger commander's tense body as he relaxed in his embrace. He needed to hear Marco's words, yearned for someone to reassure him this wasn't his fault. The blond let his brother cry in his shoulder as much as he needed to - he had just barely lost his partner in crime after all.  
  
They stayed like that for a while until he heard a muffled "don't call me Squirt" against his shoulder. Marco smiled, and they stepped apart. The first commander ruffled the boy's hair, and they smiled at each other as Haruta wiped his eyes with his sleeve.  
  
Marco stepped aside and showed him his injured brother. Haruta's smile faded, Thatch looked unrecognizable. His usual pompadour hairstyle was gone, he seemed so small and frail in the infirmary bed, and he was unusually pale.  
  
Haruta closed his eyes, shook his head slightly and muttered under his breath, "He's alive, that's what counts". He put a gentle smile back on his face, walked up to Thatch, softly touched his cheek, and bent down to whisper in his ear "I'm waiting for you, when you wake up we'll pull our greatest prank yet, so hurry up and get well soon big bro". He kissed Thatch's cheek and walked out of the room, followed by Marco. They closed the door behind them and signalled to the nurses that they were leaving.  
  
"Can you get to the meeting without me, Haruta-yoi?" Marco said, "I've got to go and get changed first. I don't think anyone will believe me if I say that Thatch is alive looking like this-yoi."  
  
"Sure thing bro, see you in a bit," Haruta waved at him, his cheery attitude restored.  
  
"See you in a bit Squirt-yoi," Marco waved back, walking towards his room.  
  
"Don't call me squirt!" Haruta shouted from the other end of the corridor, but Marco had already turned at the corner to the commander's quarters.  
  
He reached his room and immediately stripped naked. He hadn't hesitated a single second to get his clothes dirty with his brother's blood. He'd even forgotten about it for a few hours. But right now, it felt like anything that had Thatch's blood on it burned his skin. He threw his clothes in the corner of his room - he'd get rid of them later.  
  
As he scrubbed most of the coagulated blood off his arms over the sink with a wet towel -he'd shower later- Marco thought back to Haruta's words and felt a horrifying shiver crawl up his spine. He couldn't bear to imagine what it would have been like if Teach had found Thatch and Haruta together. He surely would have killed them both.  
  
Teach was exceptionally good at close hand combat. Marco had trained him himself, after all. He could confidently say that the student had come close to surpassing his master. Although, thanks to that overpowered fruit of his, his aptitudes at close hand combat didn't matter anymore.  
  
He had often trained with Haruta too, and he knew that Teach was significantly better than him at hand to hand fighting. Haruta would give him a run for his money if he had a sword and was ready to fight, but the bulky pirate was all about surprise attacks and would have waited until Haruta put his weapon down to strike. The two of them wouldn't have stood a chance against his cowardly surprise attack.

As he walked to the small cabinet at the end of the room where his clothes were stored, he started preparing himself mentally for the fact that Ace, Pops, and all the commanders would be present at the meeting.  
  
He had cried and dug the graves of most of the people was going to see today, how odd.  
  
He had already decided not to tell anyone about his little jump in time. After all, if he announced to them that he was from the future, they'd start asking questions as to how exactly he had done it. Marco knew he couldn't answer those questions, and he hated lying.  
  
So he wouldn't say anything. It was better off that way.  
  
 _It's all about self-control_ , Marco thought, _I'll cry and let loose once I'm alone tonight, for now though, Pops is waiting for me. They all are._  
  
He took a deep breath, looked, at himself in the mirror. He was wearing the same clothes as always: dark blue short trousers, an open purple shirt, and his favourite bright blue sash - which he hadn't been wearing when he rescued Thatch from certain death.  
  
He left the room. and walked confidently down the hallway. He was ready.  
  
Once again he took the long road that avoided the main deck. He knew the whole crew had been gathered there by Pops earlier. He didn't want to have to face their questions yet.  
  
He got to the door and didn't give himself the time to think. He opened it, mentally chanting _"I'm ready for this"_ and nearly ran straight back out.  
  
Pops was sitting at the end of the old and massive oak table, facing the door - all of his medical equipment was still on. He looked Marco straight in the eye, and the blond forced himself to look back at him with confidence, trying to erase all fragment of panic from his face. He was the last to arrive.  
  
"Ah, my son, we were waiting for you to start," Whitebeard said, to announce Marco's presence. All fourteen commanders at the table turned their heads to look at Marco.  
  
"Yeah, sorry I'm late-yoi, there were some things that, I had to take care of," Marco answered with a confident voice. He was very good at showing confidence where he felt none. Feeling the eyes of the people in the room on his back, the blond walked to his chair and sat down at Pop's right side. He tried to avoid all eye contact with the others - he had to take it slow, he'd work towards getting used to their presences again once the meeting was over. He silenced his inner need to grab any random person in the room and hug the living daylights out of them and concentrated on the task at hand. Announcing Thatch's predicament.  
  
Once every month, the three Moby Dicks would gather to party and catch up. Pops had been adamant that they keep the family as close-knit as they cold, and with that in mind, they met up as often as possible to have fun. They usually held birthday parties at that time too. All commanders were here today because another one of these conventions had taken place the night prior.

"So, what is this about anyway?" Ace asked, "and why aren't we waiting for Thatch?"  
  
Marco almost lost all the control he had been concentrating on keeping right then and there. No matter how much mental preparation he got, hearing Ace's bubbly voice next to him made him visibly flinch.

 _Repress everything_ , he ordered to himself, _you'll cry later._  
  
"Yeah!" Namur said, "shouldn't we give Thatch the time to get there? This meeting seems important. You'd never get us all up so early right after a party. No one has even had breakfast yet, and I'm pretty sure Bleinheim and Jozu over there have very nasty hangovers after having emptied half of the bar by themselves for their drinking contest," he snickered.  
  
Both sent him dark and tired looks. They had gone all out on the alcohol the night before, they always did.  
  
"Ace and Namur are right," Izou piped in, "Thatch must be getting breakfast ready for everyone at this hour, isn't it a bit unfair not to let him get here before we start?" He looked tense like he knew something was off - a bad feeling maybe - but wasn't quite sure what it was. And the cook not showing up to the meeting didn't help his uneasy feeling.

Marco felt sad for him - he had watched Thatch and Izou as they danced around each other for a long time now. It was common knowledge on the ship that the kimono-clad man had a soft spot for the cook.

  
Everyone was nodding and talking simultaneously.  
  
"Settle down my sons, please, this is important," Whitebeard said. They all stopped conversing and turned their heads towards their father. "Thank you all for responding so promptly to my call, I apologize, for cutting your night short. Now, my children, the news I'm about to tell you will be hard to hear and will come as a shock to you all. Before I say anything, I want you all to remember that you can always come to me if ever you feel overwhelmed, okay? I am your father, and just because you are commanders doesn't mean you aren't allowed to feel sad, confused or angry." He stopped for a second, looked at them all in the eye to make sure everyone had heard him and proceeded to continue with his announcement. "I'm not quite sure how to say this... I, myself, am having a bit of trouble understanding how this could have happened, and I'm hoping our investigations will shed some light on the situation at hand." He stopped for a second and sighed, "Sorry, I'm rambling, I'll cut to the chase. There was an incident yesterday night an-"  
  
"Where's Thatch?" Izou cut in.  
  
Complete silence befell upon the room - no one seemed to be breathing - the implications behind Pop's words and Thatch's nonattendance unsettled them all. And when all that Whitebeard did was send Izou a sad, tired look, the atmosphere in the room went from apprehensive to downright ominous. "Pops..? Where is Thatch? Why aren't we waiting for him." Izou asked, again, becoming desperate. 

Haruta and Vista - who had both been quiet the whole time - talked simultaneously: "Please let him talk" the first whispered gently, "Please don't make this more difficult than it has to be" the second added. Anything Izou had been about to say died in his throat, and he turned his attention to their father.  
  
"I'll remind you all that this is going to be shocking, but we will still get through it, together as a family understand?" Everyone nodded a bit stiffly, anxious to know what was happening.  
  
"Yesterday night, someone decided to betray the family," he started, "they hurt Thatch and left." Whitebeard hesitated for a second, debating whether he should give them more details or not, and deciding it was better if he told them everything now. "Your brother was stabbed in the back and left to bleed out in his room."

Some sort of mix between a groan and whine left Izou's lips as he started shaking uncontrollably. Jozu, Jiru and Namur cried silently. Ace stared at the wall, not looking at any of them, his fists were so tight that his knuckles turned white. Most of the others were too shocked to react yet. Pops looked at them all sadly. He didn't seem like he wanted to add anything to what he had just said.  
  
 _He does know Thatch is still alive, right?_ Marco wondered. He looked inquisitively towards Vista who seemed equally as confused.

"I've given the order that no one leaves the ship until we finish the investigations. I want you all to count the members of your divisions, see if anyone is missing. We have to find the traitor," Pops added, "If he has left, we'll go after him, but if he is still on board, we need to know who it is before he hurts anyone else. Marco?" Marco looked up at the Captain, "I'd like you to lead the investigations, I'm sorry to ask you to work in such a terrible moment, but we need to find the murderer before it's too late and I trust that you'll resolve this faster than anyone else."

"Okay Pops," Marco nodded, "I'll do what you asked, but before you say anything else... What were you told exactly this morning-yoi?"

"What do you mean son?" Whitebeards brows furrowed.

"The person who came to wake you this morning, exactly what did he say about the incident-yoi?" he asked again.

"Is this necessary?" Izou asked bitterly, "Thatch is dead. What does it matter to you how Pops found out? How can you just sit here asking such questions after finding out about the murder of your best friend? You don't even look sad! Do you even care?"

The blond stood still for a second, waiting to see if Pops would correct Izou, tell them all that Thatch was alive. He didn't. All Marco saw when he looked up at Whitebeard questioningly, was a father grieving the death of his son.

 _He doesn't know that Thatch is_ alive, Marco concluded. _I have to intervene._

"Okay, so, I didn't say anything about this earlier because I was waiting for Pops to speak-yoi, but it seems he doesn't know either." All commanders gave him their tearful attention, "I'm the one who found Thatch gravely injured yesterday night, but he was still breathing when I got to him. I was able to use my power to heal him just in time - he is resting in an infirmary bed as we speak-yoi."

Whitebeard took a sharp breath behind him. "My son, do you mean to say that Thatch is still alive?"

"Yes," Marco said affirmatively. The Yonko visibly deflated in his seat, all the pain of learning about his son's demise and the pressure of keeping a straight face -and not letting out his full fury then and there - left his body at once, replaced by a colossal wave of relief. "I wouldn't hold this against the person who gave you the faulty information though-yoi, Thatch lost an incredible amount of blood, it was an honest mistake to assume he had passed," the first division commander added.

He turned his attention towards the others, they didn't seem as tense as before, but their faces were still grim. They were all having a hard time processing the situation. Marco couldn't hold it against them.

He walked towards Izou and put an arm on his slumped shoulders - the sixteenth commander seemed to have aged ten years.

"Izou, I do care about my best friend-yoi. I'm sorry if I seemed insensitive to you, I just knew he was okay since I healed him." Marco told him softly, trying to soothe the upset commander.

Izou got up out of his chair and wrapped his arms around Marco's middle, resting his forehead against his chest. "No, I'm the one who's sorry... You found Thatch and saved him. I accused you of not caring, I'm sorry. That was heartless of me." The poor guy had gone from grief to anger, to guilt in less than five minutes, the blond couldn't hold anything he had said against him. Marco smiled tenderly and held Izou's shoulders in a tight embrace, he got to hug one of his brothers after all. While Izou needed a shoulder to cry on, Marco needed human contact to anchor him, to tell him that they were all here.

"It's okay-yoi," Marco whispered, "he's alive. Thatch is alive. That's all that matters right now. It's going to be fine." He delicately stroked Izou's hair and didn't stop reassuring him until the other had calmed down. "Let's listen to Pops' orders and then you can go and see him okay? Thatch will be happy to find you at his side when he wakes up-yoi."

They stepped apart, and both went back to their seats. Marco cleared his throat awkwardly - everyone was staring at him.

They were all a little surprised. Marco and Izou were the two most calm and composed commanders on board, they'd never seen Izou in such a state before.

Whitebeard gave them both an endearing smile, watching his children get along always cheered him up. Especially the way Marco seemed to know exactly what it was Izou needed to hear to feel better. He couldn't help but think that the blond was perfect as his right-hand man.

He started talking again. "My sons I would like to apologize, it seems that the information given to me this morning was false. I am truly sorry for what I have just put you through, making you all believe that Thatch was dead was cruel on many levels. You all can go and visit him in the infirmary as much as you would like to. Please keep in mind that if you crowd him too much, you'll be kicked out by the nurses, so you might want to take turns for your visits," several commanders nodded. "Before you drop by the infirmary, I have to ask that you all go and inform your respective divisions of the situation at hand. Please, make sure you do a headcount of your comrades - see if anyone is missing. I hate having to doubt my children, but if the traitor is still on board, we must know."

With that, Whitebeard sent them out and signalled at Marco to stay back.

The blond observed them all as they walked out, mindful not to make any eye contact - he couldn't handle talking to his previously dead brothers right now. He still tried to make out which ones looked most affected by the situation so that he could find and talk to them first - a complicated task since they all looked shell shocked. They were all happy to know that their brother was alive, but knowing that he had been this close to dying because of a traitor of all things. That hurt. They had a traitor on board.

Once the door closed, Whitebeard spoke to Marco. "My son, I'll handle telling the first division about what happened, I'd like you to inform the fourth division of the situation. I know that my role as a captain is to make difficult decisions and that I should be the one to tell them, but I think what they need right now is a friend, not a father. You are very close to them all. I saw how you handled Izou's grief, you held him and reassured him. I'd like you to do the same for them. They are all quite prideful and they wouldn't to cry in front of me, they won't hold back for you though, and I don't want them to repress anything."

"Okay Pops," Marco smiled, he had already planned to help the fourth division through this ordeal, but Whitebeard had just made it easier for him.

Marco finally stepped out on the deck, he had avoided it until now. Walking around the once destroyed ship forced him to repress his inner turmoil once again. He made his way to the kitchens. Everyone had been gathered outside except for the cooks who had stayed inside to finish making breakfast.

Marco walked into the kitchen, the cooks turned their heads towards him for a second and got back to work again.

"Oh hey there Marco!" One them said.

"Have you seen Thatch?" A blond cook who was cutting vegetables piped up, "we tried to go to his room to wake him up but we were stopped before we could get in by someone guarding his door. No one can enter it, Pops' orders."

"You think he went a little too hard on the drinks and got ill?" wondered a cook who was mixing the batter. "Maybe that's why we were told to stay out?"

"Thatch? Nah!" Answered another one, "he'd never let a hangover keep him out of the kitchen! I've seen him cook after having drunk much more than what he did yesterday."

"It's his turn to do the chores, he must have convinced Pops he was doing something important and that he couldn't be disturbed to get out of it." They collectively snickered and went on cooking. "Anyways, I hope he gets there soon 'cause we need to check the inventory today."

Marco cleared his throat, he felt bad ruining their apparent good moods, but someone had to tell them about what had happened, and they deserved to know of their commanders' fate.

"Guys? Can I get your attention for a bit?" Marco said, "this is important."

They put down what they were doing, turned off the stoves, and looked to Marco, giving him their undivided attention.

"What's the matter, commander?" an older cook with surprisingly clear green eyes asked. James, Marco remembered,

"I'm sorry to disturb you in the middle of your jobs. I have an announcement to make." Marco thought of a way of phrasing the situation before he spoke again, "Thatch won't be joining you guys for a bit. James, you are the sous-chef right?" the cook nodded, "you'll be taking control here for a bit."

"What happened?" James asked, "Thatch would never leave for a mission without telling us beforehand!" All the cooks started whispering confusedly.

"There has been an incident," Marco stated, they quieted down again and listened. "We have been betrayed. Yesterday night, someone on board decided to kill Thatch. They stabbed him in the back with his kitchen knife and left him to die. I found him in time and saved him, so he is alive, but he will need to rest for a bit."

As he had anticipated, the news hit them hard. One of the cooks ran out of the room to throw up, Marco followed him and rubbed his back. He brought him back into the kitchen, gave him some water and tended to every one of them personally - reassuring, giving a few hugs, making sure that they all kept their faith in each other.

He already knew who the traitor was, so he didn't bother counting them as Pops had asked, and focused on helping them all through the shock of learning that their mentor, their friend, their big brother, had very nearly died.

They were all pirates, so the news of one of their own being injured shouldn't have caused such strong reactions - they often got attacked and they knew of the risks that came with sailing on a Yonko's ship. But even though the exposure to danger was high, Whitebeard pirates rarely died in battle, and most of them had been sailing on this ship for many years.

Thatch had always seemed untouchable, he was adored by all of his brothers, he was strong, and protected his division members in battles. He was already there when all of them arrived into the family, the possibility that he could die had never crossed any of their minds. This was a brutal awakening for them all.

They stayed huddled a little longer, Marco was shocked to see that the group of hot-blooded cooks could look so lost and sad. It broke his heart to watch them all realise that Thatch was not immortal.

In the end, James got up and gave them a little motivational speech. He told them that he wasn't Thatch and he wouldn't dream to ever be as good a leader as him, but he would do his best to make things run smoothly. They had to make sure that Thatch didn't have anything to worry about whilst he was resting, he'd come back to the kitchen and everything would be just like before he was injured.

They all nodded and got back to their initial tasks, performing them far more rapidly than before. Marco knew that they wanted to empty their heads by occupying their hands and wondered if it was a good idea to let 25 cooks stress cook for a whole day, but he didn't have it in him to stop them.

***

"Haruta?" Whitebeard asked the youngest commander a little later in the day, "did Marco seem a little bit off to you this morning?"

"Yeah," he answered, "I think he was very shaken up by what he saw yesterday. It was terrible Pops, there was so much blood everywhere... Just thinking about it... I can't..."

The captain looked at Haruta and noticed how he was shaking. He had primarily thought that there was something wrong with the first commander, seeing Haruta's though, he concluded that anyone would have been shaken up after such events. It must have truly been a terrible scene to bear witness to if the most upbeat commander lost his smile and started quivering at it's very thought.

"Haruta," he ordered. "I'd like you to send a message to all our allies, tell them to stay on high alert, we might call for their assistance soon. We have a traitor amongst our ranks."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Sorry, this is a bit late, I got a little bit ill and had to take a few days off from writing. I decided to write longer chapters, I hope that's alright with everyone, I have great plans for this story! I hope that you are all doing well and I wish you all the best!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for taking some time to read my work, I really appreciate it, if ever you'd like to leave some constructive feedback then feel free! I'll always listen ^^
> 
> I have a Tumblr account where I am posting this fic in case you would like to get in touch with me: https://fandegirl.tumblr.com/
> 
> Please don't hesitate to let me know if you have ideas or suggestions for this fanfiction's heading. I have my own plans but I'll happily listen and try to take into account any and all outsider opinion, I love to chat! ^^
> 
> Please take care of yourselves, and see you in the next chapter.


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